


Jackpot

by Shiggityshwa



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Birthday, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Feel-good, Gen, Humorous Ending, Light-Hearted, One Big Happy Family, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiggityshwa/pseuds/Shiggityshwa
Summary: Vala returns from a weekend away to find a birthday card on her desk with a lottery ticket inside which leads to hilarious shenanigans, leaving the team to wonder how one piece of paper can cause so much damage.  Canon compliant focusing on the team dynamics, and team as a surrogate family. Humorous and lighthearted.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Golden Ticket

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story sometime back as an answer to the Tumblr post about what we wanted to see on SG. I said there should've been an episode where Vala unknowingly won the lottery and stated how it should end. The chapters are short, the tone is funny, the drama is constructed in a manner where it's not serious. There are none of my usual pairings because I wanted it to read like a mixture of Memento Mori with the absurdity of 200, while still being plausible and canon compliant. 
> 
> I stopped writing because the tone of my life wasn't matching the light and humorous tone I wanted in the story, so it was placed on the back burner about half done. However, given the circumstances of what's been happening, I figured we all need a little getaway when we can't, so I plan to finish it up within the next few weeks. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

It’s Monday morning, and somehow she makes it down to Daniel’s lab before he does.

The team had just had their first weekend off in over half a year, beginning on Friday after a long, drawling mission debriefing, followed by a painful silence, and everyone bowing out to go their own ways.

Since she still isn’t allowed out of the complex without a chaperone, and since the team greatly needed a break from each other, she didn’t ask to tag along with anyone. Instead she had her own adventure through the gate as her request for spending the weekend—on a planet where the sand is as thin as ground grain—was approved. She returned late last night to crawl into her bed after a lazy, tryst filled weekend, feeling completely satisfied and with a lovely tan.

When she pads to her little cubby corner where they’ve allowed her a very rudimentary laptop which she employs daily to bypass the security measures set in place to keep her from accessing classified information, there is something sticking out on the keyboard. At first she assumes it’s a note, that the team had a discussion late last night—except perhaps for Muscles, who may still be off world—that they’re to meet in a specific spot and failed to relay the information to her.

However, upon closer inspection, she finds it’s a letter with her name scrawled across the front in beautiful penmanship.

Plucking it from being propped between the keys, she opens the purple envelope, and retrieves a card from within. There are two cats on the front, both with googly eyes and wearing party hats, which she adores all ready. When she opens it up, she finds it celebratory of her birthday, and a piece of paper floats out, swaying through the air until landing face up on her keyboard.

She sets the card facing up on her desk, and inspects the paper, which has a logo across the top and then a list of numbers running from left to right.

She has no idea what this is.

The lights flicker on in the room as Daniel steps through the threshold, that morning’s newspaper tucked underneath an arm, while he juggles an open mug of coffee with his other hand. She draws her eyes away from the card, watching him fumble, knowing that if she offers to help, he’ll get all snippety about it and spill his coffee, most likely on his paper.

But when he looks up, surprised to see her in their shared workspace this early, he flinches, drops his newspaper on the ground and spills half his coffee on top.

She only grins, waving the piece of paper between her thumb and index finger as a greeting. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he huffs, setting his mug on top of the surveying table he prefers, then stooping to retrieve his newspaper, shaking it a bit to relieve it of any unabsorbed coffee. He removes the first segment, splatting it to the table, and immediately starts reading in on the historical section.

Absently, he remarks, “you’re here early.”

As she approaches, he glances up from the pages, then back down, then his eyes dart back up again. “You look like you got some sun.”

“Yes, and it was marvelous, Darling—but that’s not currently the matter at hand.” She stands beside him, her back to the table he’s facing, resting her behind just shy of sitting atop. He’s made it exceedingly clear that she’s never to prop herself up on any table at any time if he and his glasses are in the room.

“Oh.” Nods in agreement, snatching back the unread portion of the newspaper, flipping through the last section and retrieving the puzzle page for her. It’s full of word games that let her learn Tau’ri syntax and definitions, knows he willingly buys the paper just for the page to give to her, because he knows she enjoys it. He also knows it keeps her distracted and quiet. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Taps him on the arm with the puzzle page, smiling broadly and adding. “Is there anything else I should be thanking you for?”

Now he sighs because maybe he felt this interaction should have been completed by now. “Oh, like for what?”

“Did you, perhaps, bring me back a souvenir?” 

“Vala, what type of souvenir do you want me to bring back from my house, I spent the weekend holed up reading through—”

Sees the diatribe coming and flashes the piece of paper from within the card to cut him off. “So you didn’t leave this and a delightful kitty card for me to find at my computer?”

“What? No.” Pulls his glasses out of the pocket on his BDU jacket and slips them on, while taking the piece of paper from her. His face recoils, like he’s tasted something bitter, like the time she exchanged the sugar in his coffee for salt because she was bored. “Why would I give you a lottery ticket?”

“What’s that?”

He clicks on the table lamp and inspects the paper further under heavier light. “This is a lottery ticket.”

“Yes, I gathered as much from your explanation.” She leans over his shoulder, pillowing her hands against his outstretched arm. “Care to elaborate on what a lottery is?”

“Well—” He hesitates, hums at something, and after a few seconds when he doesn’t notice her prolonged contact, when he doesn’t shake her off or shoo her away, she knows that it’s something much more interesting.

“Does it have to do with treasure, Daniel?” Her voice is low, cunning as she watches the slight twitch in his brow. “Does it have to do with money?”

Expects him to start to crumble, to stammer, and bounce away from the table trying to distract her elsewhere, but instead he squishes his mouth to the side. “We need to tell the others about this.”


	2. Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

“Okay.” Mitchell steeples his fingers, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowing, perhaps a little skeptical at the whole situation. “Let’s start with _how_ you got a lottery ticket, because everyone in this room made a pact not to tell you about—”

“Someone left it in a card on my keyboard.” She’s sitting sideways on the edge of the table before him, because Daniel is wearing his glasses, and she’s well aware of the chain of command now.

She crosses her legs as if to cement the point.

“Okay—” Mitchell elongates the word, looking up at her with raised brows and she shrugs at him, not knowing what other information he wants.

Sam smiles softly from behind the screen of her opened laptop on the other side of the table. “Why did someone leave you a card?”

“Because it’s my birthday today.”

Daniel claps a hand to his face from where he sits at the opposite end of the table from Mitchell. “It is _not_ your birthday.”

She turns her attention to him, her ponytail wagging over her back, and her lips tugging to the side in a tick. “Yes, it is.”

“No, I have reminders on my computer set for everyone’s birthday.” Their premature argument falters and Mitchell doesn’t look a tad ashamed. “What? No one’s birthday should be forgotten.” 

Over the clacking of her laptop, Sam reasserts. “Your file says it’s a different date, Vala.”

“Oh yes.” Shoves off the side of the table. “When your military was entering my personal information into your system, I told them a different date.”

Daniel scoffs and when she glances to him, he has the same raised eyebrow expression Mitchell wore only a second ago. When she innocently shrugs at him, he questions, his jaw straining a bit, “why would you lie about your birthday?”

“Because I lie about everything, Darling.”

“Okay, putting aside lying on a personal document while working for a secure sector of the government—” Daniel glares at her while she picks at the corner of her thumb nail where her dark purple polish is starting to peel “—we have to figure out who left the card.”

“Why?” Mitchell reclines in his chair, tossing out his hands. “It’s just a harmless birthday card.”

Over the sound of their conversation, is Samantha’s proficient typing. 

Clack. Clack. Clack.

“It’s not the birthday card, it’s that someone—”

Clack. Clack.

“Why, Daniel, don’t tell me you’re actually all atwitter over this? Is it because you forgot my birthday?”

Clack.

“I didn’t forget about your birthday—you lied about the date!”

“Uh guys?” Sam now stands before her computer, her chair pushed back, still rolling with a waning momentum.

The bickering is paused again as their attention turns to her—her droop browed expression and tight lips are never a good sign.

Mitchell stands, a hand against the table to help. “What is it, Sam?”

“Well, why you guys were discussing the specifics—”

“Like how Daniel forgot my birthday?”

“I didn’t forget your—”

Sam waves her hand through the air quickly as if to diffuse the argument. “I looked up the ticket. The draw was for today.”

“What draw?” She glances between Daniel and Mitchell, then back to Sam, still eagerly awaiting a definition to her surprise birthday gift.

Daniel rests his face against his open palm, his eyes closed, trying to calm himself. “You have to be kidding me.”

“What?” She now turns to Sam, who’s expression of concern, clashes with Daniel and Mitchell who simply appear irritated. “What’s happened?”

“Sam.” Mitchell takes a step towards their teammate, slow and pressured. “Please do not tell me—”

“Oh yeah.” Sam nods once and turns her laptop towards them, the numbers listed on her ticket are enlarged on the screen. “She won the jackpot.”


	3. Luck Of The Draw

They’ve been holding out on her. She thought all this time she was working as part of a team—told them as much—but apparently they’ve been stingy with certain aspects of Tau’ri life.

Like this lottery thing.

Oh, how she could have throttled them when she found out that through investing just a squish of her money, she could accumulate over a thousand percent earnings as a result. It’s not even a question to her—would never have been a question to her—but the ‘team’ made a pact never to tell her about the lottery for her own good.

“So, you all just assume I’d waste all my hard-earned wages on a chance to fortify my income?” She pauses beside Daniel as they wait at a door, an entry to the lottery building.

The team also explained to her that normally lottery prizes are small, and can be redeemed at many physical locations: grocery shops, convenience stores, a mall kiosk—however, since her prize was so weighty—just how weighty, they won’t reveal to her—they have to go to the headquarters of said lottery.

“Well that—” Daniel opens the door for her, allowing her to sneak inside before him. As much as the aspect of a cushy prize entices her, it’s been ages since she’s been out of the mountain and not in BDUs, she’s just as excited to show off her new jean jacket. “—and that you would rig it, and then we would have to explain how and why you can’t accept the prize.”

“Yes, why is that again?” They walk shoulder to shoulder across an ornate patterned carpet over a pristine tiled floor to a monumental desk with a single woman sitting behind it.

As she drags her boots over the carpet listening to the hissing sound and watching the scuffs appear from ruffling the material the wrong way he mumbles, “because you’re an alien.”

“Oh, right. That old walnut.”

“Chestnut.”

“What?”

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

The woman at the desk stares up at them, an exceptionally blank smile spread across her face. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m Daniel Jackson, and this is Vala Mal Doran—” he juts a finger in her direction, and she grins widely, making the woman’s smile fade vacantly. “We called earlier about winning the lottery—”

“I won the lottery,” she interjects, shoving into to him a bit and ignoring his huffs.

Before Daniel can respond the woman’s smile replaces on her face, and it intrigues her, because something seems unnatural about it. “Then I’ll have to ask you to wait in—”

“Oh, but he won the lottery too.” She grins, nudging into him again. “Tell her who you are, Darling.”

Daniel sighs, rolling his eyes, slowly, deliberately, “I’m her—”

“He’s my boyfriend.” She taps the counter with her hand and laughs at the joke because Daniel is certainly hating that the only way he could come with her to claim the prize is to pose as her significant other.

When no one else laughs, she adds, “see the lottery he won is me.”

“We got that, Dear.” His voice is tense, and sounds upset, just like he did when the team voted that she should probably go and claim the prize to determine if there was any malintent behind the ticket. If there was, they could trace it back to its point of origin.

He was outvoted three-to-one.

The woman only smiles, again empty, and gestures towards the elevators. “You’ll need to go up to the sixteenth-floor lobby then.”

“Thank you.” Daniel’s voice is more of a sigh now, and he grabs the arm of her new jean jacket dragging her along to the elevator.

“Did you see my new jacket?”

Tugging her closer, he almost growls, “could you act just a little more inconspicuous?”

She yanks her arm away, straightening out her jacket. “It’s new—well, I purchased it with Sam the last time we went shopping six months ago so—”

“Vala!”

“Oh relax, Daniel.”

“I will not relax.” He stabs his finger into the up button on the elevator several times, eventually choosing to just keep the button depressed as he checks over his shoulder to the receptionist who is watching them curiously. “We might be about to walk into a trap, and we need to be clear headed, not—”

“Really? The worst thing that could happen is we leave here empty-handed.”

“Oh, we are leaving here empty-handed.” The elevator digs, and the golden doors open slowly to a lavish inside. A bit smaller than the elevator as the SGC, but with a swankier interior.

“Not you.” She grabs his hand, holding them up for the receptionist to see, only she’s turned back to her work now.

Once inside, Daniel wrenches his hand away from hers, and shrugs his shoulders to straighten his jacket. “You need to understand, that there is no way we’re leaving here with even a percentage of the money you won.”

“Those are very challenging words.” She singsongs the threat to make it less aggressive, but more noticeable.

When he glances over to her, a little shocked, she shoves her hands in the pockets of her jacket and shrugs her shoulders innocently.

“You know—” he shoves the glasses up on his face and depresses the button for the sixteenth floor. “I’m still not entirely sure you didn’t set up this whole thing.”

“Daniel,” she gasps, raising a hand to her chest in fake shock as the elevator shudders into its ascension. “And after you forgot my, your girlfriend’s, birthday.”

“I did _not_ forget your—”

But an odd sound, particularly, for an elevator, overrules his childish outburst. A peculiar hissing, high-pitched and sibilant. They both crunch their faces in confusion—Daniel muttering about where the sound is coming from—as they inspect the elevator, only to find a fine mist leaking through the vents.

“Cover your mouth.” He smacks a hand to her face cupping over her nose and lips until she brings the collar of her jacket up to replace it, meanwhile his paltry attempt to siphon the gas from his respiratory system is his arm thrown over his mouth.

As the small container begins to fill with gas—and she’s sure she times it so just before they’re both simultaneously knocked unconscious—she questions, “still think I rigged the ticket?”


	4. Break a Leg

She awakens in a room so dimly lit, that it takes blinking her eyes several times to realize that it’s not a discrepancy in her vision brought about by huffing a large amount of an unknown gas. Wants to rub at her eyes, which are a little watery, but finds that her arms are strapped down with leather restraints and suddenly this whole situation is so warily familiar that she becomes more irritated than anxious.

“You took longer to wake up this time.” Athena moves forward from the shadows curling at the edge of the room, what looks to be a brick walled cell without any windows and only a single door leading out. “An obvious sign of your age.”

“Yes, well, we all can’t continue to masquerade around in bodies that don’t belong to us, can we?” Would offer some sort of sling about how that body is so two years ago, but she preoccupied with testing the strength of the restraints.

“Well Qetesh—”

“Oh.” Sours her mouth to the side and rests her straining arms. “I do believe we went over this last time—I’m not Qetesh.”

“I don’t really see the need to learn your name, since you life isn’t going to last much longer.”

"Then allow me to enlighten that it is unorthodox to hold someone accountable for an action they didn’t do.” Notes that the tracker has been gouged from her arm again which makes her grumble. She hates it when they need to administer a new tracker.

“A very pertinent point.” Athena turns, playing around with medical supplies, needles and electrodes, and other brick-a-brack that don’t bode well for her bodily health. “But since it is impossible for me to track down Qetesh, you’ll have to do.”

“You’ll find that I don’t respond well to being marginalized.” Tries to kick her legs, finding them restrained in place. From pure irritation she fights against the hard leather looped around her wrists, stopping her struggle briefly when noticing a tear in the hide holding her right arm. Could possibly use momentum to snap her free but needs more time.

So, with a dramatic sigh, she asks a question, partly for distraction and partly from curiosity. “What did you do with Daniel?”

“You know the Tau’ri are no use to us when we’re happily hosted.” Athena shakes up a mixture of liquid in a vial, readying a needle.

She yanks on her arm, feeling the skin tighten and tear, feels her bones jostle. “That’s not an answer.”

There’s a squeak of air as the needle plunges into the vial, and the yellow serum is sucked up.

“How could knowing possibly help your current situation?”

Freezes in place as Athena turns to witness her reaction, keeping her hands at her side, and offering a cheeky grin. “It might make me more agreeable if I know where my companion is.”

“Do you carry romantic feelings for him?”

“I have remnants of Qetesh within me, I carry romantic feelings for mostly everyone.”

Athena scoffs, turning back to the needle, flicking it a few times with her fingers for show. “Any remnants of Qetesh would have long left your system by now.”

The statement halts her struggling, making her pull a disgusted and utterly confused face. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you suffer?”

“How absolutely basic of you.”

Tugs extra hard on the final word, knowing she will likely sprain, if not break, her wrist, but the leather cracks, and she’s able to slip her battered hand out.

Athena turns to investigate what was the snap of her own wrist, drifting closer to the table, eyes scanning until discovering the vacancy of her hand, not understanding until she lunges the best she can, to bring her fist right into her nose.

*

Finds herself wandering down the street outside of yet another evil warehouse.

Was able to easily free her other hand, and her feet before slipping off the table, and kicking Athena once in the side for good measure. Doesn’t find any form of communication she could use to contact the SGC—also, she’s positive she doesn’t know the number—after all they never let her out to explore by herself, and with the tracker normally beneath her skin, there’s no need for her to have another device to be accountable for.

Cradles her wrist, not looking forward to the medical tests, the possible cast, and being useless on off-world journeys for the next few weeks. Is even less enthusiastic about getting re-microchipped like a common animal. They always inject her the same spot which then becomes infected from over stimulus. Her skin bruises so easily and it just appears so unbecoming.

Stops at a corner, reading the intersection sign names written in bright white font against a blue back. Nods and keeps walking until a car—a familiar car drives behind her. Recognizes it not from the SGC, or as belonging to one of her teammates, but from television. The brightly colored paint and the triangular sign glowing atop familiar from many advertisements and programs.

Thinks briefly about the situation.

She’s actually free and unbridled on Earth. She could explore, get food, walk in the park and feel grass between her toes. Do so many things that are currently denied to her. Could even discover where Sol’s is and pay Sal a visit.

Releases her bad arm, hissing in the flare of pain, and then eagerly waves her good arm to draw the driver’s attention. The vehicle slows, crawling to a stop beside her, and when she doesn’t immediately get in, the driver slides down the window.

“Need a ride, Lady?”

“Yes.” She grins, yanking the backdoor open and sitting with her knees meeting each other. Perhaps the driver has heard of Sol’s Diner and could drop her off for a decent meal.

“Where to?”

But she remembers Daniel, the mountain, the mission. How he somewhat risked himself by coming out with her today, how he had deigned himself to be her significant other, how he seemed just the very littlest amount of upset that he missed her birthday.

She needs to ensure his safety and follow proper protocols—meaning attending medical and debriefing. This is likely to be an awful birthday, but perhaps not her worst. After all, she did get to have a solo adventure on a beautiful tropical planet for the last two days, and the more she reflects on it, the more she believes that to be her true birthday present.

Independence.

“To Cheyenne Mountain please.”


	5. Door Prize

The taxi cab is forced to stop outside the perimeter of the mountain as the driver doesn’t have the proper credentials for entering pass the barbed wire fence exterior lined with a few good privates—some she knows well—very well—which are meant to keep her within the mountain and the baddies out.

Bad planning all around she supposes.

She doesn’t have any money and what little identification and funds she had were in her blue jean jacket—her new blue jean jacket that she had been saving to wear during a grand excursion—and has been misplaced, most likely taken from her while under the sedation along with her winning ticket.

Frowns generously as she catches the driver’s eyes in the reflection of the oblong mirror. “I’m afraid I don’t have any funds to pay you.”

“Of course, you don’t.” The driver groans, scratching something on a notebook, perhaps blacklisting her. She’s been blacklisted many places, why not add taxicab forty-seven to the list.

“However, if you wait just a moment, I’ll ask my associates over there if they might be willing to lend me the funds.” Leans up between the two seats, careful of her injury, to point at a growing group of privates standing the line, concerned with the immobile, unknown vehicle.

“Your—associates?” The way he speaks makes him sound a combination of doubtful and afraid.

“Yes, see.” Stretches forward using her good arm to wave, wearing a flashy grin.

Slowly, two or three of the guards wave back, half-hearted, almost in confusion. Even the kind colonel dialing madly on the nearby phone beckons her forward with a wave.

“Oh.” The driver seems to accept this as proof enough. He nods, unlocking doors. “Okay.”

Flopping back into the seat, she reaches over with her non-dominant hand to open the door but pauses just short of cracking the handle. “Also, today is my birthday.”

The driver crinkles his eyes at her in the mirror again. “Happy Birthday?”

“Thank you.” Speaks with relief as no one has really bothered to send any well wishes her way yet.

Exiting the car, she uses her good hand to support her fractured wrist and walks towards the group of men standing along the other side of the fence. “Afternoon, boys.”

“Vala, what the hell are you doing?” The colonel no longer nice as he slams down the security phone and motions for one of the privates to open the fence.

“I’m very sorry, Colonel—”

“Major.”

“Oh, I thought you were a Colonel?”

“I am, my last name is Major.”

“Oh yes, now I remember Colonel—”

“It’s Colonel Major, Vala.” He raises his hand, intending to halt their conversation, then pinches the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers. “I don’t know how you got outside this time, but maybe Landry will finally listen to my idea of putting a bell on you.”

“Oh, but that would take away from the novelty of your dog tags.”

“You have exactly one minute before I close the fence on—”

“I’m sorry—” It becomes apparent that her time missing in action hasn’t made it through the normal communication channels yet, which bodes well for her, and for Daniel. However, there is still one matter that needs her attention. “I owe the driver a decent sum of money for saving me from a rather derelict part of town, and I did promise him his fare.”

“You want us. To pay. For your cab?”

“I would pay for it, but my favorite, new jean jacket was—”

“I am personally going to take you inside to Landry and—”

“—It’s also my birthday.” Grins sweetly, curling the fingers of her good hand around the links in the fence. “You could consider it a present.”

“Vala.” The colonel raises his voice, and the other privates who were snickering, take a step away. Obviously, she’s reached the end of his temper. “Get. In. The—”

“Vala Mal Doran!” A familiar voice booms from out of the tunnel mouth.

She gets a little twinge of excitement from seeing him returned safely.

“Muscles!”

Steps through the threshold left by the opened gate and runs to him, pouncing on him as is their casual greeting. He catches her easily, after all, she is quite the catch. “I am happy you are safe.”

“Me too.”

He sets her down and gestures to her arm. “You are injured. We will go to medical.”

Nods at him, starting to walk away with a hand on his broad back, wanting to hear all about the affairs he got into on his mini vacation, though she knows he’s quite the prude and will never divulge more than a knowing grin.

“Oh.” She stops walking, and turns back, seeing the taxicab still idling in place. “I owe that driver a rather large sum of money for fare, and my captors pilfered my new jean jacket with—”

“It is of no concern.” Muscle’s offers her a kind grin and a half bow before pivoting on his feet in a mechanical rotation to address Colonel Major. “Reimburse the driver.”


	6. Break the Bank

“—She was really snarky about it too.”

She regales Muscles of her day’s adventures as they stroll down a corridor within the mountain. The guard at the security post they just passed had the gall to ask to see her identification, which, after the amount of times she’s jail broken out of their high security complex, is a dig at her side. She’s practically notorious for it now. Tries to narrow down Colonel Major’s schedule and sync her escape plans for when he’s posted on door duty.

After all, he is one of the nicer men at the complex.

It’s a shame he’s happily married.

“—and she kept my brand-new jean jacket.”

“I am sorry for your poor fortune today.”

Muscles steps in time with her, matching each of her languid, spent steps. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he’s mostly silent during her tale, except to add in brief exclamations and sympathizing remarks.

When they reach the elevator, she allows him to press the button as her good arm still preoccupied with supporting her poor one.

“And on top of that, all of it happened on my birthday as well.”

He doesn’t argue with her, doesn’t point out that she’d specified another date when provoked, doesn’t roll his eyes or groan thinking it’s one of her shenanigans she gets into because she’s pretty much trapped within this mountain for the vast majority of her time.

Only declares, “Happy Birthday, Vala Mal Doran.”

“Thank you!”

The elevator dings, and when they turn to enter, they find Daniel staring down at his crossed arms preoccupied in thought, before snapping back and looking up at them. “Vala! They told me you—it—what happened!”

Recognizes that this is a different genre of Daniel’s stuttering, not indicative of his anger, but rather his concern, and she doesn’t know why, but she finds it sufficiently flattering.

“We are on our way down to visit Dr. Lam.” Muscles offers as he glides into the elevator interior.

She steps in less than gracefully. A tired day full of the promise of money without actually receiving any money, being gassed, almost tortured, and the self inflected injury weighing heavily on her jean jacketless back. 

“Dr. Lam?” Halts his stuttering immediately, his lips pulling into the same somewhat confused and concerned expression from this morning after he dissected her lottery ticket. Before she simultaneously became filthy rich, and then so poor she no longer had a wallet. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing, Darling.” Leans back, resting somewhat awkwardly against the wall as Muscles depresses the level for the medical bay. “How did you fare getting back here relatively unscathed.”

“They were really sloppy this time.” Reaching forward, Daniel collects her injured arm delicately, his words directed downwards as he distractedly explains his impressive escape. His muttering continues as his fingers gently prod around the growing bruise until she recoils, then he glances up at her. “I think they were more concerned with you. How’d this happen?”

“I broke through the leather restraint when Athena was otherwise preoccupied.”

“I think it’s dislocated.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“Did you—”

“Vala Mal Doran managed to take a taxi back to the base.”

Daniel clears his throat, perhaps forgetting the Muscles is present, and darts his eyes away from her. His hands return to his side, but there is noticeably a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Is that so?”

“I made Colonel Major pay for it since my brand new, favorite jean jacket was pilfered.” 

“I’m sure that made the colonel’s day.” It’s a sentence that should be said with more salt—his usual saltiness present in their bantering back and forth dialogue of his reprimanding and her need to draw him away from whatever he’s fixated on at the moment, even if it means she’s on the receiving end of a few harsh words.

They travel in an encompassing silence within the elevator, and just before reaching her designated floor, Daniel adds, “I was wondering where your jacket was.”

*

She sits through several different exams, including the drawing of her blood, but they won’t let her leave yet.

Dr. Lam is fairly adamant that she undergoes something called an exray. Informed her that the machine uses radiation to examine her bones, and while that sounds well and good, radiation is usually something she tries to avoid.

So instead, they’ve left her in this rather cold examination room, wearing a scrub top and her sullied pants, to mull over of she’d like to be dosed with radiation or not. She keeps pacing around the room, until the door opens and Sam steps through.

“I was going to ask how you were doing—but.” Her friend offers a wince and a grin but stands with her body blocking the door.

She calms in the presence of someone familiar, stopping her scurrying and perching on the side of the cot. “I’ve had better days.”

Samantha drops lightly to sit on the opposite edge of the bed. “Carolyn told me you’re refusing to get your arm set.”

“They’re demanding I get something called an exray and—”

“It is radiation, but it will help determine how bad you hurt your wrist.”

The paper-thin blanket they’ve offered her on the cot twists between the fingers of her good hand. She glances down at her limp arm, bruises swirling up her porcelain skin in black pinwheels, like petals on the flowers. “Darling, I can tell you it’s dislocated.”

Sam gently reaches across the space, touching her good hand and retrieving the balled blanket from within. “This will help us be sure.”

“I don’t understand why—”

“We were all terrified, Vala.” Her friend chuckles remorsefully, her eyes darting away a little more glassy than usual. “After what happened last time, we weren’t so sure we’d find you.”

“Did the boys go a little—” trying to take the attention off Samantha, she taps the top of her friend’s hand while she pretends to search for the proper word “—wonko?”

“Cameron started a block by block search of any suspect properties where you guys went missing and after Daniel called in what happened, he started ransacking the building.”

“And you?”

“I called Teal’c back.” Samantha’s grin as she departs from the bed. She wonders if she could inveigle her into procuring and sharing another bottle of wine in celebration of her birthday—or in remembrance of her jean jacket. “We’re actually on our way to do a sweep through of the warehouse you were in.”

“You best be on your way then.”

But as Samantha approaches the door, she stops and pivots round, stepping quickly to her, and enveloping her with a side hug. “I’m glad you’re safe, Vala.”

Knows now that she’s going to get the stupid exray, and pat’s Samantha’s arm in reassurance. “Me too.”


	7. Russian Roulette

They’ve been waiting in the conference room for almost an hour. Her ennui has reached it’s crux ten minutes ago, and now she leans into her good arm as it piles against the debriefing table. Her injured arm angles a little harshly to her right as Cameron leans over, his tongue peaking just a tad between his lips, while sketching something on her cast in blue pen.

“Where are they again?” Mumbles against the skin on her hand which still carries the stench of noxious gas—unnatural and chemical—as she hasn’t been able to shower yet during this whole ordeal. Isn’t quite sure how she’s to manage showering with her arm done up the way it is. If only she could return to the planet she took her weekend sojourn on, she’s sure she could rally up a volunteer or five to help her. “There’s only a few minutes left of my birthday.”

“Am I boring you, Princess?” Mitchell doesn’t even sound insulted, just distracted, as he continues to sketch along the bumpy and dried bandages.

“No offense, but this was not how I intended to spend the last minutes of my birthday.”

“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say this isn’t how we would’ve wanted you to spend your birthday either.” The hand not currently preoccupied with drawing the grand masterpiece on her arm, sneaks it’s fingers against hers, immobile by itchy plaster, but she appreciates the gesture.

“Thank you.” She taps his forearm twice rather weakly, knowing that she appreciated his words, but that they don’t really mean much at this point.

A gentle rap at the door interrupts any further conversation on the matter, and they both glance up as the rest of the team pour less than ceremoniously through the doorway.

“Excellent.” Shifts her arm in an attempt to clap her hands together in glee, forgetting about her recent injury, chalking it up to fatigue.

“Hey, don’t move your arm.” Believes Mitchell’s advice to be partially out of concern for her pain tolerance, and partially because he hasn’t finished his sketch yet.

“Yes, well, now that everyone is here, could we please get to whatever dreadful—”

“Actually Vala,” Samantha’s grin is of a different variety now, her eyes practically sparkling in a mischievous nature as she takes a seat across the conference table. “I have a feeling you’re going to be a fan of this meeting.”

“What Sam means to say is you should stop before you say anything you might regret.” Daniel’s arms are crossed and when he sits less than gracefully at the table, it jitters drawing Cameron’s glare up from her cast. “You’ve already lost an arm, and I don’t think you can afford to lose the foot to your mouth.”

“Wow, a little harsh Jackson.”

Before any more arguments can break free from tired and irritated minds, Teal’c steps forward, his arms clasped casually behind his back. “Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson, and I have spent the majority of the evening tracing and investigating the warehouse where you were held captive.”

“An interesting feat, no doubt.”

“Indeed.”

“While we weren’t able to find any trace of Athena, or where she might be—” Sam trails off, turning towards Daniel who picks up the conversation as if they’re playing a game of basket’s ball.

“We were able to find something to make it a worthwhile adventure.”

“You did?”

“Don’t move your arm.” Cameron, reminds her, still doodling away. 

Even Daniel carries a mischievous grin, but it’s genuine, making her feel at ease with everyone in the room. Safe and supported. “Yeah, something we thought you might want.”

“Teal’c?” Sam juts the question towards the still standing Jaffa.

With an acknowledging nod, he brings his arms forward revealing a piece of clothing draped over them—

“My jean jacket!” Bounces up in her seat, dragging her arm upwards, which unfortunately is still under the influence of Cameron’s steady blue ballpoint pen.

“No!” Weakly he reaches for her, but his hand fall despondently.

“Sorry, Darling, but I love this jacket.” She collects the thick material to her chest giving it a snuggle, beaming at her teammates, most of whom grin back.

“It’s fine.” But his voice indicates this may not be entirely truthful. “Jackson’s just gonna have to grow a mustache.”

“What?” Daniel leans across the table to view the art that’s been scrawled on her cast in the last fifteen minutes.

It’s not really much more than stick art, but each member of the team is represented. She has a jean jacket and luscious black hair, Samantha has a calm and accepting grin, Teal’c is bowing, Cameron is a little more generously muscled, and Daniel now has one side of a villain’s curly mustache.

“Here.” Leaning forward, Cameron evens out the mustache before nodding, sitting back and appreciating his work.

“It is very intuitive, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Thanks, Big Guy.”

“How come you get to have all the muscles and I look like I’m going to tie everyone to the railroad tracks?”

“Because Vala moved.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful.” She grins, still snuggling against her jacket. “Thank you all.”

It’s the natural cue for them to break apart. She’ll have to navigate the shower with one arm hanging out, and the others likely have mission reports to finish, and as the team starts their natural flow towards the door, through the various iterations of ‘happy birthday’, Cameron’s voice rings out again.

“Actually, the team has one more gift for you.”

Drawing her attention back to him, he’s standing slightly askew from where he sat before, a square white envelope waving between his fingers.

“Is it another patch? Did I get promoted?” Shuffles back to him, eyes trained on the movement of the envelope. “Did I get a raise?”

“My grandma used to always say—”

“Yes. Yes. I get the lesson embedded in an arcane idiom.” Sets her jacket back down in the table, holding out her hand. “Give it here.”

Cameron almost rolls his eyes but allows her the envelope which she tears at with the fingers on her good hand, while using the stiffness of the cast as a support.

“Mitchell, what—”

But Cameron only motions for Daniel to settle with the questions as she rips the card free.

This one has two puppies adorned with party hats and googly eyes on it, which she adores because when she agitates the card, she can hear the weak scratching of their eyes moving. The prerequisite celebratory greeting is on the front, and when she opens it, a square piece of paper drifts out, and onto the ground.

The others stretch forward as she retrieves the familiar piece of paper, though this one is marked with a different date, and there is an extra line of numbers. She holds it up in success, grinning as a chorus of groans greets her.

“Cam, you didn’t,” although Samantha is laughing, the tone of her voice is anything but jovial.

Daniel is more forthright about his displeasure. “Mitchell, didn’t you learn anything about—” and continues on explaining every single detail about the passing day.

Even Teal’c isn’t completely satisfied with the gift idea. “Colonel Mitchell, are you sure this is a wise idea?”

“It’s not like things can go this belly up a second time.” Cameron shrugs, and she wagers he’s enjoying a little bit of the chaos he’s introduced. “Okay, I was crunched for time and no one’s birthday should be forgotten.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick FYI, I'm going to be trying to update or post one story a week. So watch out for updates on 2 Birds, Totally Rad, 2 4 1, the Watch the Birdie series, and Jackpot. 
> 
> Stay safe.


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